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"She’ll think--"

"I knohat she’ll think, Genya"

I lean against the fence,the scrap of paper as the Darkling murmurs softly to the horse, loords I can’t make out

I can’t e to say, "Do you care about her at all?"

There’s the briefest pause

"What are you really asking, Genya?"

I shrug "I like her When this is all over--"

"You want to know if she’ll forgive you"

I run raceless slashes and blunt lines She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in a long time

"Maybe," I say

"She won’t"

I suspect he’s right I certainly wouldn’t I just didn’t think it would matter to me as much as it does

"You decide," he says "I’ll have the letters brought to you"

"You kept them?"

"Post them Give them back to her Do whatever you think best"

I watch him closely This feels like some kind of trick "You can’t ray eyes cool "Old bonds," he says as he gives the horse a final pat and pushes off fro for Alina but tie her to a life long gone"

The paper is starting to fray beneathwith the briefest touch of his hand His power flows through , the steady rush of a river Best not to think where the current may takeby the paddock, the tracker’s na in ht After I’ve changed my mud-spattered slippers and rid myself of the scent of the stables, I find her seated at her dressing table, ato her hair There was a time when she wouldn’t let anyone else but me see to her preparations "Genya does it better than any of you," she would say, waving the servants away "Go and bring us tea and so a terrible job of it The style is nice nough, but it isn’t suited to the Queen’s face I would place the pins higher, leave a strand free to curl around her cheek

"You’re late," she snaps as she catches sight of ies,on her face and neck, and the ely at the Queen’s cheekbones, and the blue of her eyes is an indigo too vibrant to be believed But she wanted the shade to ue Still, it drives ain I can’t walk by a crooked picture fraht The Queen always pushes too far--a bit